


Quidditch Introspective

by la_choo (melonbutterfly)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-03
Updated: 2009-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/la_choo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco watches Harry fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quidditch Introspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dayari](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dayari).



> Set in 6th year.

There's a jerkiness in Potter's movements that indicates he's not here for the pleasure, but because he's frustrated and doesn't know where else to go. Draco knows the feeling, has the same instinct to come here and just- just _fly_ until it's all not important anymore, until all that matters is the wind and the pull in his muscles and the heart-stopping fall, the breathtaking rise. This would be a wonderful chance to pick on Potter, he thinks, but he doesn't get up, doesn't drag himself out from under the stands where he's hiding because there is nothing, nothing in this world that can help him anymore, not even flying, and all he can and wants to do sometimes is hide, and this place still and always holds a certain power over him. Somehow, he always ends here when he just doesn't know what else to do anymore.

It's envy, he realises with a start, that is clogging up his throat, making it hard to swallow as he watches Potter throw off his cloak – and the tip of his nose will feel frozen within five minutes in this weather, but Draco knows that right now, Potter couldn't care less – and climb on his Firebolt. Not in slow-motion, but it feels like that, he sees the muscles in Potter's legs tense, sees his knees bend and then he pushes himself off the ground, pulling at the broomstick and rising into the air. It doesn't look graceful, it looks abrupt and screams the frustration that is in every of Potter's movements.

But it doesn't need to look graceful, because it's _Potter._ It's always Potter, a voice whispers in the back of his mind, and there's a possibility behind it, a desperate option that he doesn't even want to consider, that he never allows to become conscious in his mind or else he would have to be aware of it, think about it, and he cannot allow that. So he concentrates on the motions, the movements, not-so-effortlessly drags up the part in him that is Quidditch player too, makes himself notice the figures and judge the way they are pulled off, the technique. And with that dry judgement comes another part of himself that he always tried to push away, but he's tired and there's just too much to push away now, he can't do it all anymore. And this part; this part is harmless. It's unpleasant, in a way, but only if he thinks about it, and there's so much on his mind that he doesn't have to. He can simply allow it to ascend.

And he watches, and if sometimes his breath stops because Potter doesn't need to look graceful, he _is,_ he doesn't think about it. And if there's a burn in his throat, in his eyes and in his mind, a whisper of a thought, he pretends it's because he has no time for Quidditch right now and not because he doesn't have the freedom to fly off his frustration anymore.


End file.
